When I returned home from my astral journey, the cold weight of the topaz pendant still lingered in my hands. I do a double-take to make sure that I wasn’t actually still holding it. Bringing something back from the astral realm? No, that’d be too crazy…
It took so much almost more force of will than I could muster to shower, get dressed, and ready for Rich’s big homecoming dinner.
Man, the dinner was such a drag after my time with Tanza. Her life was in danger, but here I am, listening to Rich drone on and on about Princeton.
He’s dressed head-to-toe in Brooks Brothers, and for what he lacks in stature, he makes up for in smarm. He’s one of those people who can’t talk without weaving in seven layers of bragging.
My stepmom, Marcie, is actually pretty cool. I mean, she’s a golddigger, but her positive attitude is good for Dad, and she’s always been good to me. Though she pushes me to spend more of Dad’s money than I want to. I mean, I love to look cute, but I don’t think two thousand-dollar purses are any cuter than ones from Hot Topic, but whatever, she means the best.
“The thing about market analytics, Dad, is that if you don’t have the training, you don’t have the skills.” He shoots me a look with those cold grey eyes of his at the jab, no doubt implying that the tutoring I was getting was no replacement for an Ivy League education. Like always, I let the jab slide. If I got angry at every one of Rich’s side comments, I’d be in a perpetual rage.
I used to assume that the source of his disdain was my party girl lifestyle. But once I put the partying behind me, I realized it went a lot deeper. Maybe I’d teased him too much in the first few years of our steprelationship? Still, I’ve found it best to simply ignore him.
“So, then Michael says to me that they couldn’t possibly have a lacrosse team without my participation, and so I was forced to join,” he drawls in his newly-minted fake East Coast accent.
“That’s very interesting,” Dad mutters, in between bites of baked potato. He seems more interested in the food than his stepson, a fact that doesn’t escape Rich’s calculating eyes.
“I know your cooks are really rather good, but let me tell you, Dad, you haven’t lived until you’ve gone to No. 9 Park! It really is rather exquisite!” Dad flinches a little when Rich calls him ‘Dad’, but he recovers quickly and plays it off as having gotten a piece of potato skin in his teeth.
“No. 9 Park, that’s where we went when I came to visit, isn’t it, Richard dear?” Marcie asks between gulps of wine, oblivious to any tension.
“Oh yes, mother, it was. You really should have come, Dad, we had such a wonderful time!”
I take a sip of water and follow it with a bite of sirloin. It’s good, but nothing compared to that exquisite blue cheese. And my family? They’re wholly lacking Tanza’s gravitational pull. I feel like I’m stuck having to babysit, while all my friends are at the best rave ever.
“Well, it’s been real, but I’ve gotta jet,” I make my excuse the second my dessert fork hits the plate.
“Yes, dear, you’ve got a busy day ahead of you.” Dad walks over and gives the top of my head an affectionate kiss. “Want me to wheel you to your room?”
“You know, I’m okay on my own,” I insist. We’ve been through this before, and I know he means the best, but no 21-year-old girl wants to be wheeled around by her father.
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“Well, okay. See you tomorrow, darling,” he says, an ever-present melancholy just below the surface of his words.
“‘Night sis,” Rich says in a treacly tone. “Now, Dad, how about you and I enjoy an after-dinner scotch and cigar. We can talk business. You know what they say, the work day really starts once the boys open a bottle!”
Dad takes a sharp inhale, fixes a smile on his face, and pats Rich on both shoulders. “That sounds nice.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
***
It’s 9:00 pm once I’m back in my room. I ponder doing a quick trip and visiting Tanza, but there’s not enough time for it. Instead, I do a little exercise, text Lucy, and climb into bed. Tomorrow, I’ll be sure to carve out a few hours.
As I drift off, I wonder, does the princess love to dance, too?
With that, I drift off into a fitful sleep.
Since I’ve started with astral travel, my dreams are quicker to come and far more vivid than before. Usually, they’re some combination of absurd and silly, but tonight’s different. I’m back there, in the passenger seat of that red Acura Integra.
“Look,” Ricky points out the car window up to a star that’s glowing absurdly bright. “That’s what they call a kill star. It shines down on those about to die.”
A fawn’s eyes reflect the star’s light. In the inky blackness, the car starts to skid and spin, Tiffany laughing wildly in the back seat the entire time.
Though I hadn’t felt it during the actual accident, now I’m feeling the full weight of the danger on me. I’m sweating, my heart’s pounding, and I can hardly see through the tears I’m crying.
Spinning. Spinning. Something caught in my throat, cutting off my ability to breathe. Lost Tribe’s “Gamemaster” plays in the background at normal speed, even as our car moves in quarter-time.
I’m dying for a breath! Hands around my neck, tree approaching.
“Embracing the Goddess within yourselves will bring all of you to a new understanding and valuing of life.”
The song hits that spoken word section during the break, and something about that juxtaposition between those words and the imminent danger makes me realize that something’s deeply wrong.
Hands wrapped so tight that I can’t even scream…
Those hands?
They’re not a dream!
The song stops mid-beat.
My eyes snap open, and I’m blinded by a white light - a star outside my window that shines absurdly bright. The kill star? No, it’s an aftereffect brought on by the lack of oxygen.
Focus, Janie, there’s no time to dick around!
My eyes regain focus. I see him! A man in a black ski mask is straddling me, his forearms bulging from exertion, his hands around my neck!
What the fuck?!
The grip’s too tight, I can’t even scream…
I’m so rattled that my first instinct is to kick him off me. Fortunately, I recognize the futility and turn my attention towards my arms. Quick, while I can still focus! I slam my fist into the side of his head. He reels back, and I use the interruption to lurch forward and pull up the mask, as I gasp for fresh air.
“Rich?! What the fuck!”
It’s my stepbrother! My stepbrother is trying to kill me! I’m so shocked that my grip slackens, the mask falling to the bed.
“Damn it, Janie, you weren’t supposed to see me. But it won’t matter, you’ll be out of my hair shortly, and then I’ll have no competition with daddy dearest!” He sneers in a Midwestern twang, the East Coast accent wholly absent.
Then the grey of his eyes is momentarily replaced with an unearthly, electrically charged black light. It crackles around him, and his leer broadens.
He slams me down to the bed and locks his gloved hands around my throat. I struggle and push, but he’s different now, filled with some unearthly strength. No matter how hard I punch or struggle, his grip holds tight.
Wait a second? This is really happening - I’m really going to die, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I can either die struggling, or I can…
The pain’s rolling over me like waves, but I’ve dealt with pain before. Pain’s not going to stop my focus, I’m seconds away from death…
I pray there’s enough time. Before, I’ve taken the time to build up the temple, to follow the steps - but this is an emergency, and I’ve gotta get out of here quick, it’s my only chance!
As I build up the silver cord, unbidden the image of that yellow topaz pendant flashes before my eyes. I haven’t formed any sort of astral body yet, but desperation drives me! I open the image like a curtain, push through, and Nokia flip phone my consciousness from human body to astral dragon.
Bam!
The curtain slams like a door behind me. I look down at the silver cord, my connection to earthly life, and stare in horror; it’s severed, just a one-inch tube dangling from my dragon’s belly!
Oh my God.
Oh my God.
Oh my God.
I’m dead…
I’m dead…
I’m dead…
